Never Means Always
by hulafreaky
Summary: Molly was supposed to marry Victor however, as lovely as he is, she knows that another man should be in his place at the end of the aisle. But, Sherlock is not one to show feelings.


Molly stood outside 221B Baker Street, wedding dress and all. Twenty minutes earlier she'd been waiting in the foyer of her wedding, about to walk down the aisle to be wed to Victor Trevor. But, the only thing she could think about was Sherlock. Whom she'd invited to her engagement party, the stag night, and the wedding and he hadn't shown to any. John had smiled sadly at her when he found her, telling her Sherlock was back at 221B, not leaving his room, before he left to find his seat with his new girlfriend, Mary.

Molly found herself quietly slipping out the door of her own wedding, and hailing a cab. She liked Victor, she really did. He was lovely, and he listened to her and treated her right yet, she didn't love him. She tried to forget about the consulting detective, but on the day when all she should be thinking about was Victor, all she could picture was Sherlock Holmes. That's how she found herself standing outside 221B in a rather large white lace wedding dress that hugged her figure with a beautiful corset backing and fell in an almost ballerina like skirt to her feet. Her long hair hung in curls, framing her face and she had light make-up on, she felt confident and determined. She knocked on the door, her heart racing as she waited.

Sherlock groaned. He hadn't left his bed in a while now. He didn't know why it bothered him. Molly getting married. It shouldn't. He didn't have feelings for her. She was just his pathologist. But yet, he felt frustrated with himself for not doing anything. He got out of bed and headed towards the door. He unlocked it and opened it slowly, squinting his eyes at the gleaming white that shined though the door as he opened it. "Molly?"

Molly watched him, a sad smile on her lips as she looked up at him, doe eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I couldn't marry Victor." She explained quietly, shifting on her feet as she watched him. She'd left Victor a note explaining where she'd gone and why, and the last thing on her mind was the church filled with her family and friends that would've realised she was gone by now. The only thing that mattered was that the wrong man was waiting for her at the end of the aisle.

"And why not? He seemed good for you, and all." Sherlock waved his arm around before tucking it behind his head. He was still in his robe. He stared at Molly. She looked beautiful in that wedding gown. The lace bodice, her veil. It made her even more beautiful than she already was. Sherlock shook his head. _No_, he did not have feelings for her. He did not. He was only his pathologist. Barely a _friend_.

Molly's heart was beating hard in her chest, her stomach fluttering with nerves. "I'm in love with someone else." She murmured softly, fidgeting with the excess lace of the dress. Sherlock made her head spin, even dressed in merely a robe. She could smell his cologne, utterly masculine, mixed with cigarette smoke and peppermint and it took all she had not to throw herself at him then and there.

He knew who she was talking about. He had always known. But, being the curious one he is, he was still interested with what she had to say. He rubbed his eyes, still tired from the night before. "Who?" He asked. "Who is this man that has stolen your heart?" He said, almost mockingly. He wanted to be rude. He wanted to scare her off. They were not meant to be. But yet, he felt guilty for even thinking about hurting her.

Molly shook her head only a tiny bit. Sherlock's behaviour didn't faze her any more. She'd known him for years and she just loved him more for it. "You can be a real git, you know that?" She asked, the corners of her mouth quirking up in a small grin as she climbed the couple steps to close the distance, pressing her lips firmly to his and winding her arms around his neck before he could react.

He was taken aback at first by her sudden movement. He wanted to push her away put his heart wouldn't let him. Instead, he lifted his hand to the back of her head and neck, pulling her in closer to deepen their kiss. It shouldn't feel right but it did. Then his mind took over and he pulled away. "What are you doing?" He almost yelled at her.

Molly stayed pressed close to him, her large eyes finding his as she pulled back only slightly, their faces centimetres apart. "What I've wanted to do for years." She whispered, her stomach fluttering with nerves and excitement.

"Well, there, your wish has come true and our business here is done. Now go back to that church and get married. There are people waiting for you. Like Victor." He walked back into his flat, slamming the door in her face. He leaned back against the door and banged his head against it. _What had he just done?_

Molly caught her lower lip between her teeth, staring at the door for a minute. "Sherlock?" She called tentatively, trying the door handle before knocking softly. "I don't want to marry Victor. The only man I want waiting for me at the end of the aisle is you."

Sherlock groaned. He turned to lean his forehead against the door. He banged his fist against it. "No! I don't want to be with you, Molly! Can't you see that?" His mind had taken over again, leaving his heart unable to fend for itself. He kept banging his forehead on the door softly.

Molly stepped back from the door. That hurt a bit, her brow furrowed but she took a deep breath. "No! Come out here and tell me that you feel nothing for me!" She yelled back, all her emotions she'd pent up finally releasing as she stubbornly kicked the door, hurting her toes more than anything. "Tell me you feel nothing at all for me, Sherlock Holmes, and I will leave you alone for good!" She yelled once more. "Say you don't love me!"

He sighed and opened the door. "You're making a scene!" He yelled at her, looking around the street, making sure no one was staring. "You already kissed me! Against my will, I might add. What more do you want from me?" He yelled, waving his hands in the air.

Molly wasn't going to back down, she wasn't a mouse around him any more "Now _you're _making a scene!" She yelled back, stamping her foot childishly. "Tell me you don't love me!" She demanded, not lowering her voice, as she put her hands on her hips, trying to seem bigger than she was.

He looked anywhere but her eyes. "I don't love you. Never have, never will." His eyes darted around the street, not making eye contact with the woman in white.

Molly, she didn't think, she slapped him across the cheek, not hard, but still enough to shock them both. "Don't lie to me, Sherlock Holmes. Look me in the eyes and say it." She almost growled, her hands shaking as she stared up at him.

"Fine!" He shouted. He stared down into her eyes; her big, beautiful eyes. "I don't love you." He whispered, almost inaudible. "I don't." He repeated as he turned to walk back inside again.

She was crying now, almost hysterical as she shook. "I don't believe you." She whispered, hitting his shoulder weakly. "I don't believe you." She yelled, pounding at his shoulder weakly, she was so tiny in comparison to him. "You're lying." She whispered once more, tears streaking her face.

He looked down at her. _You're right_. He wanted to say it out loud, to just kiss her again but his ignorant mind wouldn't let him. He was hurting her. He was hurting the woman he loved. _Why was he doing this? Why did he hurt people?_ "I'm sorry, Molly. Just go back to the church." He stood there, his back to her. His mind wanted to go back into his flat alone and stay in bed but, his heart wanted her to come with him.

When he turned his back, she sobbed, rubbing at her eyes. She wanted to hit him, make him hurt as much as she was hurting but she couldn't. "You're a git. I hate you!" She screamed, though she didn't mean it. She was overtired and emotional and not thinking properly. "I hate you!"

He turned to her. "I thought you love me." He was on the brink of tears, doing his best to hide it. He didn't look at her face. He couldn't. It would hurt him too much to see how much he had hurt her. He hated himself for doing this to her. On her wedding day too. Imagine if _he_ was the one who she was supposed to marry. He would be a horrible husband and Molly did _not_ deserve that.

Molly was still crying, she couldn't stop. She wiped at her eyes, no longer caring about her make up. "I do. I do, Sherlock. I love you so much it hurts. I get dizzy when I think about you. You are my one and only." She sobbed. "I don't hate you. I hate the fact that you make me feel like you're the only thing in the world that matters to me. When you don't care about me at all."

"I do care, Molly." He said quietly, waiting patiently for her response.

Molly looked up at him, her large brown eyes shimmery from tears. "I know." She whispered, stepping forward to push a curl from his forehead. "I don't want to live without you, Sherlock. I love you." She breathed, standing on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips.

He just let it happen, accepting what this was. He even smiled against her lips. As they pulled apart after mutual negotiation, he said it. He said the five words she wanted him to say. "I love you, Molly Hooper." He smiled and embraced her in his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head. "I always have and I always will."


End file.
